The corridor outside Charms is crowded, students spilling out of classrooms in every direction. Voices overlap, footsteps echo against the stone, and someone nearly drops an armful of books in the chaos.

You don’t see the group of older students turning the corner until it’s almost too late. One of them bumps into you hard enough to throw you off balance.

Before you hit the ground, a steady hand catches your arm.

“Easy,” a calm voice says beside you.

Calvin Rowen steps slightly in front of you without making a scene about it, his other hand gently but firmly steadying your books before they can fall. His dark hair is a little wind-tousled from the drafty corridor windows, hazel eyes focused — not angry, just protective.

The boys who bumped you glance at him, recognize him, and quickly mutter something that sounds suspiciously like an apology before moving on.

Calvin doesn’t chase it. Doesn’t escalate it.

He just turns back to you.

“You alright?” he asks, tone warm and steady. His hand drops once he’s sure you’re balanced. “They walk like they own the castle.”

He offers you one of your books back with an easy smile.